Shattered
by Andrea Sinisterra
Summary: SasuSaku. One-shot. Written for Church of Lemons 2006. One person can only take so much... it's just a matter of time before you break. Contains lime.


**Shattered**  
By Andrea Sinisterra  
Romance/Angst  
Rated MA  
_Standard Disclaimers Apply  
_

**Author's Note:** …SMUT! My first SasuSaku fic! Please read and review

**Warnings:** …Uh… Smut. It's very mild and so-not-graphic, so it's safe. Also, Not beta-read.

* * *

The moonbeams were relentless as they fought against power itself to embrace him, seducing him, compelling him to let go of his demons for once and let himself be human… If at least for just one night. If at least for one damn night.

One.

He stood by her window, his eyes cast low, the crimson flickers hidden by ebony locks—his hair, now so long it flew over his shoulders in rims of raven waves.

Such bitterness. So much hatred filled him, it ravaged his veins, consumed his soul, polluted his blood until he could no longer see straight… it killed him little by little, so painfully slow he no longer was aware of time or essence, living his days by instinct alone, driven by fear and rage…

Driven by her silent calls…

Her memory, so treasured and old, was perhaps the only color he saw anymore, for he could still remember the pink hues of her hair, reflecting gold and red at the same time—could still remember the deep emerald of her gaze, its power enhanced by the deep tears she held that fateful last night when he said his final goodbye.

And it didn't matter how much time had gone by, how many seasons have come and left… Her words were resonant still… Each heartbeat of his punctuated by every syllable she uttered, her tears falling at the same rate the breeze ripped the last leaves off the trees' branches.

He didn't know her; he never did—just like he never gave her the chance to get to know him. But now it was too late; too much time had passed, they were different now. She was different now.

Her hair seemed much longer from his post at her window; her skin much silkier with the moonlight spilling over her.

What did he expect? She had always been beautiful—he had always thought of her as that, yet unattainable, completely out of his reach. For the longest time she kept the hope that someday he would release his demons and accept her love, yet she never understood the frailty of his being. She could never quite understand that he was tainted, corrupted. She never noticed how far beyond he was; he had chosen it that way, pursuing a murderer by becoming one himself, while willing to let go of everything he had—including her love.

She was out of reach for the simple fact that she represented everything he believed in: the purity of the soul. And he, so full of hatred and self-pity, could only pollute her. She was breakable and he didn't want her in his conscience.

"I knew it would be you."

He had never felt fear like this before, never had felt his heart stop so suddenly and for no apparent reason. Every muscle in his body tensed up, every cell frozen to the core as he stood there not knowing what to do, how to react—all he could do was drink her in, relish in the slumber still clouding her jade-colored eyes—those eyes which haunted him.

And her voice, so hoarse from sleep, caressed his skin and it took all his willpower not to close his eyes at the sound of it. He dared not let his voice cloud the space between them; he didn't have anything he could say that could redeem him. There was no redemption for someone who had sold his soul out without even a second thought.

His eyes watched greedily as she sat up in her bed, silky strands falling all around her, the sheets revealing her womanly body to his sight. How many nights had he wished for the impossible? She tortured him, always asking for more when he couldn't even offer her the simplest things. His eyes were fixed on the geometrical patters of her nightshirt, mulling over things he could say and shouldn't say. At the end it didn't really matter; he had just wanted to see her one last time.

He was just turning around, knees bending to brace his jump when her voice rang out again, the pain held in the low decibels paralyzing him. "You can't run forever… Sasuke."

There was a rustle of sheets and the sound of her bare feet on the floor, and yet he didn't dare turn around, his hand grabbing the windowsill so hard the wood cracked.

He had expected the usual from her— to scream or cry, to empty herself of feelings and emotions with the goal to make him stay, to make him see her way. He had one and a million scenarios running through his head, thousands of things she could say—all of which died with the soft pressure of her lithe body against his back.

_Fuck… _

His eyes closed on their own, his breath hitched in his throat, unwilling to move lest she backed away and removed her warmth from his cold body. How many times had he pictured her in his mind, seen her standing there so alone, braving the cold wind, begging him to stay or take her with him? To hear her say those words if just once more… So freely it could only be natural. Only she—only she could love a bastard like himself.

Her hands moved from his arms to wrap around his torso, pulling him flush against her, her breath fanning his long hair and touching his left ear. "Why?"

Braving everything, he opened his eyes, not really knowing what she was asking, yet understanding the question all the same.

When had she changed? When had _he _changed?

Every single question was cast aside immediately when she pressed her hands flat on his chest for a real hug, before withdrawing and stepping back. And he understood then: she was giving him the choice.

Sasuke could only stand there, broken, not knowing what…how…if… Why did she have to make things so complicated? Why couldn't she kick him out and tell him she hated him? He deserved it, he was prepared to take her hatred and loathing head on.

Then why—why was she standing there, looking so calm and peaceful, serious yet at the same time, portraying such a hopeful wish in her eyes… It was fate, knowing the moment he turned around to face her, it would be his downfall. Her eyes spoke a silent plea, the irises shining so brightly even in the waning moonlight.

_Sakura…_

"Sasuke… leave it or take it." Her tone betrayed everything her eyes portrayed; it was severe and cold, leaving no space for useless words or stalling. "It can't be both… And this will be the last time."

"I'm poisoned."

Wide as full moons, shock reached her eyes seconds before she understood he meant it metaphorically, her fear falling back as fast as it had come. Her shoulders sagged back, her spine unwinding the tension. She had always been an open book to him, so readable, wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"There's an antidote to every poison, Sasuke… Take it … or leave it."

There it was again, the last ultimatum. And yes, he was stalling…

"I'm not so frail, Sasuke… Give me some credit; I don't break that easily. Not anymore."

_But you can't fix what's already broken…_

She turned around then, leaving him to his thoughts, letting him mull over them, granting him precious moments to fight his demons before he chose to either walk by her side or jump through the window and never come back. Never. Come. Back.

His heart stopped again, resuming with a fast beat propelled by rejection and fear and exhilaration he was not familiar with. Konoha's rejection… Itachi's rejection…

_Sakura's rejection…_

Standing frozen by her windowsill, the wind gently caressing the trees behind him, owls and crickets singing the night's medley…

Everything seemed slow-motion as she sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress sinking lightly under her weight. Her shoulders lowered as she released a breath, shaking her head lightly, before she moved to lay down, her hair once again spilling over the white sheets, her back to him as she lay on her side.

One step brought him inside her room, invading her space while at the same time its scent enveloped him, entrancing him, holding him prisoner.

_Take it or leave it…_ Her soft voice reverberated through his cells, colliding inside him like a cataclysm, setting every nerve inside him on edge. He was on edge… He always was when he was around her. He made her ponder things that were better left tucked away; made him see things when he would have preferred being blind… Made him feel things he did not understand.

He had never liked not knowing what awaited him two steps ahead.

And yes, he thought finally, that was his problem with her; she made him feel like he was out of his binds, losing control so shamelessly without putting up a fight… But the real truth was that he was powerless against her. He never knew what she had in store for him, pushing him to the ground without any sort of physical strength. He was powerless—useless against that kind of power. So entirely out of his territory.

Once, she had told him she could help him mend the pieces, that no matter when he would return, she would always be there waiting for him, ready to pick him up and put him back together.

At the time it hadn't mattered it had only been a dream—rather constant—but a dream nonetheless.

He took another step—this time he could actually see the flickers of light playing on her hair, and he tightened his hand into an impenetrable fist, trying against his will to touch it, for the ache to do so was threatening against his better judgment.

When had he turned into such a wuss? His hatred didn't touch her, didn't affect her in the least. Why? Why couldn't she hate him, loathe him, reject him like everyone else had so willingly done? Why couldn't she feel hurt whenever he had turned her down so despicably and without regret? Why—why couldn't he break her?

His other hand fisted, mimicking its partner, shaking and pale as the moonlight spilling from the window.

Another step.

Had he miscalculated? He had sworn the distance from her window to her bed would take him at least five steps.

Shaking his head, troubled, trying to banish those impervious thoughts that clouded his better judgment. Her hair no longer shone, muted by the shadows he cast on her, yet her warmth amazed him, threading into his bones as if he was skin to skin with her.

A sudden thrill shook his spine, making the hairs at the back of his neck stand on end.

_He wasn't human…not really…_

Or else he would understand. Or else he would see what she—

_Damn it!_

He wanted to shake her and break her, wanted to kill her very essence so she would stop haunting him—he wanted to shatter her into a million pieces, cracking her imperturbable façade so he could no longer recognize her… fissure her heart so she would no longer love him…

…Sever that invisible, almost nonexistent thread that bound him to her and her to him.

_This shadow…_

It was his. He was always shadowing her… Why—

He almost jumped away, but something made him stand his ground, braving—

A tremble wormed its way unwillingly up the spot where their skin still touched, all the way to his stomach. His breathing pattern had altered, and while it was wasn't labored, it was still higher above average.

His knee… That traitorous limb… It rested against her back, right on that soft patch of skin her top had defiantly revealed, threatening to give way and leave him sprawled at her feet, at her mercy.

And yet… He reveled in the glorious, yet foolish victory that swelled inside him at the sight of her taut body, so rigid her shock was almost palpable.

He frowned slightly, trying to catch her words. She had said his name in a whispered breath so light, and yet her next words made all the rage inside him boil and explode.

"Take it or leave it."

Furiously, he gritted his teeth, releasing his breath through his nostrils, his hands fisting viciously at his sides. What the fuck did she mean?

She turned then, her back flat against the bed, her hair hidden behind her… her eyes dull as if they were prepared for whatever blow he could give her. Everything was in slow motion; he was almost convinced of it. How else could he explain his inability to move whenever she did something he was not prepared for? Something he knew would set the balance to her side.

Breathing in deeply, he closed his eyes, shutting out the world and her vision at the same time.

Her hand on his thigh, on his skin—the touch was so real in its simplicity, yet so violent in the torrent of contradiction it unleashed inside him.

Without much effort, she pushed her hand behind his knee, pulling him to her, not really surprised when he complied. He was now half kneeling on the bed, his knee tucked against the crook of her waist and hipbone. So deliciously tempting.

His eyes were still closed, his breathing still submissive to his tight control. Such a strong, proud man. So impenetrable, unyielding and ruthless it was hard to think he wasn't even 20 years old.

_Sakura…_

"Sasuke…"

Even without opening his eyes, he knew how she must have looked like, lying there with her hand on his leg, holding him tightly as if afraid he would disappear—despite her tough exterior, so self-assured. Her bright eyes, bright hair, bright skin… She was all light, iridescent. Then again, everything around him was alight in splendor when compared to the darkness he emitted.

_Itachi…_

His short nails bit into his palms, the pain reminding him of his ever-present past, making the memories well up and eat away at his conscience.

_You are so weak… little brother._ had been his last words, a departure Sasuke was sure he would never forget.

Her touch on his hand made him release the pressure of his fists.

_Never good enough._

"Sasuke…" She whispered again. Taking his hand, she pulled him down.

He breathed deeply, her scent at once overpowering his senses. It was only seconds, him lying fully on top of her, his face hidden between her neck and shoulder, his lips unmoving against her skin…

Only seconds…

Pushing his body up on his hands, he pulled up, but the unexpected pressure against him brought him down on her, colliding against her willing, soft body with a whoosh of air.

Legs around his hips, arms around his neck, a breath against his lips.

_Fractured. So broken._

He could feel her eyes on him, urging him to face her, to accept her, understand this. Her legs tightened with incredible force, holding him immobile in her vice-tight grip. He shuddered lightly, almost imperceptibly, feeling her fingers thread lazily through his hair, pushing it out of his face and behind his ears.

And yet…

_…Break…_

"Sakura…" That was not his voice, he was sure. Breathless and painful, weak and drained. Tired. How long has it been since that day?

_Too long._

He felt their breath mingle as their respiration collided in such a restricted space. The distance was so small, their noses grazed.

_…break…break…_

He wanted to move… but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

_You are so weak… little brother._ he had whispered. You will never… be… good enough… for Uchiha.

_You are my son, indeed… Itachi._

"Fix me…" It was not his voice. He was no longer himself. He could see her eyes open wide with disbelief, a tear hitting the side of her mouth, full of pain, before she closed them, along with the distance between their lips, sealing herself to him forever.

He did not move, he could not think, he couldn't even breathe… Her lips were torturing him, breaking him in half.

"You… Sasuke…" He was half listening, breathing hard against her ear. "…you are everything to me."

His kiss was forceful, violent as if he wanted to punish her. His lips slanted over hers in a brusque manner, trying to erase the words she'd uttered, not willing to accept whatever lies she'd spurred.

One of his hands clasped the hair behind her head, slanting her head to the side, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth ceaselessly.

He felt her thumbs run across the skin under his eyes, smothering the unexpected moistness she found there.

_...so weak…_ No!

Wrenching violently from her, his sharingan blazed ominously.

She reached out then, her palm cupping his cheek, her eyes soft and determined. "You can't run forever, Sasuke."

Second time. It was right then that he realized she knew.

Slowly, so slow she could see the sadness flicker in his crimson-freckled eyes, he brought his head down, breathing against her.

When had he become so easy to read?

She kissed his neck and that part of skin behind his ear. She was breaking him. He knew it, and the worst part was that she knew it as well. Her hands continued to run through his long hair, seducing him into a trance-like euphoria where he could lose himself in the sensations she showered him.

Her teeth grazed his earlobe, her breath hot against his skin. "Take it or leave it."

He could have left long ago… But some part of him, that part which he refused to acknowledge, that part he tried to convince himself had died long ago—that part which still remained human wanted to stay there… beside her.

"Take what…?" Not his voice. It sounded distant and empty, confused. "Leave what?"

Aware of her every movement, he saw her smile softly, once again clearing the moisture from his face. She frowned lightly when their eyes met, knowing that his sharingan, permanent it seemed, disturbed her and made her nervous, yet unwilling to abide, it being the last remnant of Uchiha he possessed.

Shrugging lightly to dismiss his questions, she breathed one last time before she once again sealed her lips to him.

Did she have any idea how many times he'd dreamt of just holding her, of feeling her scent around him, her warmth seeping into his bones… Just wanting to gain the right to be there. It amazed him still, how ashamed he should feel being there in her arms, in her room, in her bed, even after all the pain he'd put her through in the past… Especially after leaving her even after she had pleaded with him and voiced—

_So warm… _

His hand trembled lightly when, unconsciously, he slipped it up under her nightshirt, flat against the quivering muscles of her stomach. Her skin was like marble, fine and smooth. He'd touched other women's skin before… Yet…

"Sasuke…" Her voice seemed broken, spent and caught at the same time, breathing hot air, her eyes so dark.

He worked on her body diligently; the night's hours seemed endless as their bodies moved in the darkness. And he couldn't have left, even if he had wanted to. He was trapped, encased in her, her limbs wounding around him with such urgency it tore him apart. She whimpered and moaned, whispered words he could not understand, yet her eyes, a green so bright, spoke of flames and need, pressuring him to move, threatening his control.

Their clothes disappeared into the night, hitting the vastness around them, baring them to the other for more exploration and discovery. They recognized their scars and bruises, trying in vain to vanish them from sight, their memories flashing, reminding them of those times, so long ago, where everything had seemed clearer, when freedom and friendship had not been an issue…

Sweat trickled down his back, his arms, pooling where their bodies touched. He tasted her, drank her in like a man enraged, drowning in her essence, in her. Her fingers danced a tandem on his skin, pressing him strategically to make him groan and hiss, equally intimidating, trying to sever the balance to fit her side.

Even now, he mused, his lips dancing on her skin, even now she wanted to fight for control.

How long had they remained kissing and touching, he did not know, nor did he care, but by then, watching her body writhe and arch uncontrollably, tempting him to come nearer, he knew the waiting had expanded long enough.

Beautiful, he thought, so damn beautiful. Her breasts, so pert and flushed, drew him in, beckoning him to take her, asking him, imploring him.

"Fuck…" He curse, his voice low it did not shatter the calm.

Closing his eyes against the feeling of her limbs once again wrapping around him, he forced his body weight to his knees, sweeping a hand under her back and the other behind her neck, securing her, pressing her firmly against him before he—

"…everything…"

He forced his eyes closed, trying to block the bliss of her eyes, or the sentiment in her words, surging into her so suddenly he nearly came, so unprepared for the heat that took him by surprise.

Her gasp sent a shrill of excitement down his spine, and when she laughed, the sound rich and joyous, it brought all the confusion and turmoil rushing back.

Wanting to block the sound, he thrust again, hard and fast. Once, twice, three times… His body shaking, quivering like a perilous leaf.

Had he known this would happen the way it did?

_Sasuke… you are my son, indeed…_

"Fix me…" He whispered again…

She was crying now, and though he'd seen her do it before, he had not prepared himself for the sight. He was convinced she was stronger, having seen her just moments before looking as if the entire world belonged at her feet.

Her smile baffled him, throwing him off course, and he sped up his pace, cursing her, wanting her, craving her.

What the fuck did she want from him!

He needed her, he knew.

She touched his hair, his ears, kissing his temple, his cheek, every place she could reach, her smile blinding and her eyes full of life.

He did not understand it.

But then, he didn't really care. He felt spent and tired, finally collapsing at her side, and to his surprise, doing it so thoughtlessly it seemed strange, he reached out for her, wanting to feel her warmth at his side.

He felt… at ease, somehow. He silently relished in the aftermath, pleased as her breathing seemed to rush out of her too fast for her to catch, pleased at feeling her heart beat so fast, she could only gulp with exhaustion…

"Don't run away…"

_So fragile…_

His eyes were fixed on the ceiling above them; he could feel the length of her body glued to his side, her small hand tucked against his neck and shoulder.

_Your brother is your brother; you are you… But just between you and me…_

He almost seemed to smile at the memory, the crimson flecks in his eyes wavering…

_…when he's alone with me, your dad only talks about you…_

His sharingan faded away…

He closed his eyes, letting the fatigue sweep over his body. Her breath was steady against his shoulder, and he brought the blanket around their naked bodies…

_I would do anything for you…_ He buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply.

_You won… little brother._

"I won't." He answered her at last.

* * *

The End. 


End file.
